


your grounded and giving and darkening scorn

by crimsonpeak2015



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Porn with Feelings, basically just roman's internal monologue plus some gerri insults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 15:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21460150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonpeak2015/pseuds/crimsonpeak2015
Summary: His name belongs to her tongue, he’s just borrowing it.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	your grounded and giving and darkening scorn

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic i've written in probably 5 years, and i wrote it at like 2AM when i was h*rny, so please cut me some slack kmdasldmlasdk (im only posting it because there's a dire need for fic in this fandom)
> 
> thanks hozier for giving me title material

He’s never been more frustrated, that’s for sure. The thing is, Gerri absolutely fucking wrecked him for other stimulus. Before, he couldn’t have sex. Now, he he still can’t have sex, and he can’t get himself off either. So really, who’s the loser here? He finds himself outside of Gerri’s door, squirming and twitching like a maniac, because he really cannot contain himself. He pounds on the door. It’s a demand rather than a request. He’s aching, throbbing; tried jerking off, tried standing in front of the window so people could see him, tried replaying their dialogues in his head. Nothing worked. He’s about to die or explode or something, he’s never been more sure about anything in his life. He glances around to see if anyone’s in the hall, and starts to palm himself discreetly, leaning against the door, breath hard and heavy. He imagines Gerri opening it, him tripping and falling forward. He imagines how she would scold him, for doing that out in public and against her door for that matter. For how depraved he is. He has the urge to grind against the door; if he were inside he probably would. He feels a small wet spot forming on his pants, he cannot fucking hold it in any longer. Where the fuck is she? He considers calling her. She’d talk him off so fast he’d probably come on the spot. And she’s so clever too, discretion wouldn’t even be a problem. In all honesty, just to hear her voice, firm and soft and filled with contempt, would be enough to send him right over the edge at this point. 

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts he doesn’t hear footsteps, barely registers his name. 

“Roman.” 

He continues to rub himself feverishly, thinks he’s dreaming.

“Roman.” she repeats, louder and colder. 

He jumps, startled and humiliated. Caught. He didn’t think it was possible to get harder, but somehow he does. 

He steps away from the door to face her. He’s flushed and practically panting, pleading with is eyes. She looks him up and down, eyes narrowing when she reaches the tent in his pants. Without a word she pushes past him to unlock the door, to open in. He practically runs in, too overcome with relief to be embarrassed by his eagerness. 

The moment the door shuts, he’s unbuckling his belt with an urgency he’s never felt before. The urgency to get off, of course. But also just the urgency to get on his knees and let her words wash over him. It’s a kind of safety he’s come to crave, and he needs it right now. 

Gerri raises an eyebrow, still silent, just watching him, face neutral. 

“Why don’t you go do that in your own room. I have work to do.”

He tries to sound sarcastic when he speaks, but- he realizes with embarrassment- it comes out as a whine.

“Gerri it’s not my fault you’re the only person who can get me off now.”

She chuckles cooly and moves to the sofa to put her stuff down on the coffee table, to take her shoes off. 

“Who’s fault do you suppose it is then?”

He staggers over to her, hand holding up his unzipped pants. 

“Yours, you evil bitch. You’ve got my dick trained like some fucking puppy. And it won’t listen to me anymore.”

She clears her throat and looks up at him, exasperated, annoyed, disgusted. Her voice takes on that special, familiar harshness that’s reserved only for him. That tone that makes him shiver.

“I can’t believe you. Honestly. Masturbating in the middle of a hotel corridor, where anyone could walk by at any time? Are you really that desperate? Do you really need it that bad?” 

He nods furiously, can’t get his voice to work. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?”

He frantically shoves his hands into his boxers, falling onto his knees by her feet. He has the urge to kiss the ground, to pray to her. The way she sits there above him, so regal and cool. She could be his god. He’d worship her. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

He shakes his head, pulling his hand out and tugging at his pant leg. He needs to touch something, his skin is on fire. Gerri sighs and shifts forward. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” she repeats like she’s talking to a little boy. The words strike him in his chest, leaving him breathless.

“No.” he manages to get out. 

“I didn’t think so. You’ve really got yourself all worked up there haven’t you? Depraved rat. You need to settle down a little.” 

He nods sheepishly, trying not to let the reality of this scenario sink in. Gerri is silent, calculating. Trying to figure out what he needs right now. Because he certainly doesn’t know, and she always does. 

“Go, get in that corner. And you’re going to stay there until you’ve thought about what you’re doing.” Her voice is gruff and he couldn’t possibly argue. Especially not when every word sends a new wave of heat straight to his cock. He puts up a fight, but they both know that he wants more than anything to do exactly what she says. It’s just part of this game they play. 

“What, you’re giving me a fucking time-out? Ya know, contrary to popular opinion, I’m not a little kid.” 

She shrugs indifferently. “Oh well, you’re certainly acting like one. You’re like a horny 13 year old. And frankly, it’s revolting. Go on, get in the corner. You need some time to reflect and relax. And I have some calls to make.”

He shuffles over, his head down, face bright red. Relax? He has to laugh. This is going to make him worse than ever. He knows that she knows it. 

He can’t help the feeling that he owes her. For knowing him so well, for taking care of him, for giving him what he needs without judgement. A sentence forms in his head that terrifies him, a welling in his chest, a kind of warmth he’s never felt before; he loves her. Fuck he loves her. But not really, no. Of course not. He shakes his head and tries his best to focus on the way her hair falls into her face as she leans to pick up her phone, the way she sighs and takes off her glasses, puts her stockinged feet up on the coffee table. He notices the way her voice changes from call to call, shapeshifting as she talks to different people. He can’t stop himself from wondering what her true voice sounds like, wondering if he’s ever heard it. He wonders if she’s aware of how she morphs. He’s so impressed and his chest is so warm and he wants to stay there in the corner, just watching her take calls, forever. She turns to glare at him and fuck. The soft, hazy warmth is replaced by fire that he feels in every cell. He can barely control himself, it takes all of his willpower to shove his fists in his pockets and face the wall. His mind wanders down paths he’s always steered clear from. All the things he wants her to do to him. He wants her to fuck him till he’s raw, till he’s nothing. He wants her to fuck him till he’s spread wide open and full of her. Full of her but empty of everything else. It disturbs him how intensely he wants her, how he feels so singularly focused on simply being hers. 

He never understood the longing to belong to another person. But of course he’d never been with someone he longed for. He understands now. The desire to give up everything to her, every part of himself. Even his name. His name belongs to her tongue, he’s just borrowing it. 

He sits down, back against the wall, overwhelmed with heat and a yearning to be filled up with her. Gerri. He repeats her name in his head, banging his fist against the hard wood of the floor. He wants to grind against it, the wall, his clothes. Anything. The overload of hormones in his brain cannot possibly be healthy. All of a sudden, he’s flooded with the need to get his clothes off. So constricting and hot and sticky. He wriggles out of his pants and underwear, ashamed, and turns to cover himself. He has what he thinks might be a good idea, but at this point his brain is so foggy and his thoughts so thick he can’t tell. He does it anyway: balls up his pants and puts them on the floor, rolls onto his stomach, humps with short jerky motions. 

He hears Gerri clear her throat and looks up. She’s still on the phone, but she’s shaking her head and glaring at him disapprovingly. He grins and lifts up his hands.

“I’m not touching! No laws broken here.” 

She gives him a look and turns back around, and he shamefully tosses the clothes over to the side, sits up once more. 

Finally, finally, after what feels like centuries of just sitting there, squirming and twisting, trying to find any sort of relief, she hangs up and walks over to him. 

“Are you ready to come back now? Are you settled?” she asks and her voice wavers on the brink of mocking. Fuck she’s so hot. 

He points to his cock. 

“What the fuck do you think?”

She smirks and walks to her bedroom without another word. He watches with way more disappointment than he’d care to admit. He might actually be heartbroken, the way it seems to jolt through him and make his chest ache. He can’t be sure, doesn’t want to be. He doesn’t know if he should follow her, and quite honestly doesn’t even know if he can stand up at this point. There’s probably no fucking blood anywhere else in his body, he’d probably collapse. 

She comes out after a while, now in her pajamas. Her hair’s pulled back and despite how soft and gentle her face looks without makeup, there’s a nervous anticipation that builds in his stomach when he sees her coming back. A sharp humiliation. And he’s alarmed at the relief that washes over him that she’s not just leaving him there. She stops once she reaches him, looks down. He feels the compulsion to crack a joke, but what with her towering over him with that look on her face, the tension is so thick he can barely breathe. He feels so silly and small, like a little bug Gerri’s holding in her palms. He could be killed at any moment. What he wouldn’t give to be crushed under her fingers. 

He swallows.

“You really have gone too far this time Roman. What am I going to do with you, huh?”

He makes begging eye contact with her, blue eyes icy cold and flickering with a sort of tenderness he doesn’t want to think about right now. He’s actually trembling now, twitching all over the place. Gerri nods, and he knows exactly what it means, gets up on his knees to tug at himself.

“You just can’t control yourself at all, can you? You’re like a fucking animal. You’re a greedy little pig, aren’t you?”

He falls forward, leaning his head on her thighs, pumping so hard he thinks his arm might fly off. He’s leaking everywhere. He feels fingers comb through his hair and tighten sharply, nails scratching his scalp. She holds his head firmly in place, resting on the softness of her thigh. He closes his eyes and focuses on the soft circles Gerri’s thumb makes on his head, on the faint smell of her own arousal. On the way it makes his mouth feel so empty and so wanting. How nothing in the world seems to exist except her.

His orgasm is shattering, breaks something inside of him. Something base and essential, though he doesn’t know what. He lets out a wail, a sort of feral yelp, a sound he didn’t even know could be made. He comes all over the floor by her feet and goes limp. Every limb in his body feels heavy. Gerri keeps his head flush to her leg and strokes his hair softly. He’s never felt so quiet, so still. 

It feels like standing in the ocean with no one around, just feeling the pulse of the waves. For a moment, they are the only two people on earth and the waves are rocking him gently. And he breathes deeply, taking in the scent of her faded perfume and the sweet smell of the silk, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s kissing her thigh until his lips touch the smooth burgundy of her pants. 

He jerks away and rushes over to grab his pants. Still shoving them on, he paces to the door and, clearing his throat, he thanks her awkwardly as it shuts. 

Fuck.


End file.
